Gift for: pettybureaucrat - Quidditch isn't the Only Wizarding Sport
Title: Quidditch isn't the Only Wizarding Sport
Gift for: pettybureaucrat
Author: katwoman_68
Pairing: Harry/Ginny
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,153
Summary: Will Ginny regret bringing Harry along on an assignment, or is he just the distraction she needs?
Author's Notes: pettybureaucrat, you asked for: sexy, romance, humor with al fresco sex, wall/desk/shower!sex, pranks, (almost) getting caught with crisp autumn air, leaves, maybe a trip to New England or Canada to view the foliage. I didn't get it all in, but I think I included a lot. I hope you like this.
"Wake up, Jack. There's a boat."
Click. Ginny glared at the television set. Then at her oblivious husband.
"They FUCK YOU at the drive-thru, okay? They FUCK YOU at the drive-thru! They know you're gonna be miles away before you find out you got fucked! They know you're not gonna turn around and go back, they don't care. So who gets fucked? Ol' Leo Getz! Okay, sure! I don't give a fuck! I'm not eating this tuna, okay?"
Ginny sighed as she crumpled yet another piece of parchment, tossing it into the overflowing wastebasket. She had jumped at the chance to cover the Quidditch Exhibition in North America. Then she was told she'd also have to cover the Quodpot Finals. Really, do the readers of the Daily Prophet care about Quodpot? She silently cursed Abraham Peasegood for creating the stupid game, Cooper Ivan Harper for assigning her to cover the Quodpot Finals, and finally Harry for distracting her. And not in a good way.
"I see dead people."
"In your dreams? While you're awake? Dead people like, in graves? In coffins?"
"Walking around like regular people. They don't see each other. They only see what they want to see. They don't know they're dead."
Click.
"WE WERE ON A BREAK!"
She glanced over her shoulder at her husband, stretched out across the bed. She picked up her wand, directed it at the noisy box in the corner, and turned it off.
"I was watching that."
"No, you weren't. You were clicking through all the channels and not watching anything," Ginny snapped at him. She inhaled a deep cleansing breath.
She pulled another sheet of parchment to her and began scratching her quill across it.
In the early 1700s, Abraham Peasegood traveled from England to the New World and brought with him a Quaffle. While packed, it is assumed
"Dad said not to let anyone see your wand!"
The distraction came from the hallway this time. Ginny knew it was the brothers from Seattle; she and Harry had had the misfortune of sitting next to the family during the match between the Holyhead Harpies and the Montrose Magpies. The boys, who informed everyone around them that their father owned the Serpents, criticized every move the Harpies made for no reason other than they were witches. Ginny's smile had been smug when the Harpies won 400 to 260.
Merlin, who thought it would be a good idea to put a bunch of wizards and witches up in a Muggle hotel? She knew that Obliviators had been to the hotel no less than six times. So far.
"You could go talk to those boys and explain to them why they shouldn't be running around the hallways."
"I'm on holiday. Kingsley did ask the Canadian Ministry if they would like our support with security for either the finals or exhibition. They declined. Besides, it's up to their parents to explain why they need to be careful around Muggles, as well as teach them common courtesy. I'll be more than happy to have those conversations with James and Albus when they're older, but the Seattle brats are not my responsibility." Harry tossed the television remote on the nightstand and crossed to her desk. He picked up a crumpled ball of parchment and tried to open it.
Ginny tried to grab it out of his hand. "Please don't read it. It's horrible."
"You can usually finish your columns so much easier than this, love."
"Usually, since I usually only have to write about Quidditch. I love Quidditch; my readers love Quidditch. None of us cares about Quodpot. I've finished the article on the Quidditch Exhibition." Ginny waved her hand in the general direction where two neatly tied rolls of parchment were ready: one to be owled to the Prophet and the other to be published by the Ontario Oracle.
Harry leaned over her shoulder and stretched his arm to pick up a program for the event, his arm brushing across her breasts. "You wrote about the Quidditch Exhibitions for both papers, right?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Did you submit the same article for both?"
Oh, Merlin. He was disturbing her again, but this time she didn't mind. Ginny closed her eyes and leaned against his arm, inhaling the clean scent of his soap. As much as she loved her boys, Albus was a cranky baby and every time Ginny or Harry even thought about sex, he cried. Screamed. At the top of his lungs. And here they were, halfway around the world, and she couldn't even write a simple piece so she could spend the rest of the evening shagging her husband.
"Gin?" Harry was smirking down at her. She looked at the bed and he laughed. "You said you had to finish the article before I could enjoy you, and you made me promise to hold you to that."
What had he asked? "No. I wrote about the match for both, but for the Oracle I also gave a little history of the game, as well as information on the Holyhead Harpies, the Montrose Magpies, the Ballycastle Bats, and Pride of Portree since those are the four teams that participated here. There's a new Quidditch league starting in North America, and I wanted the future fans to know why it's the top Wizarding game in Europe."
Harry was looking through the program. "Do you need to write anything for the Oracle about Quodpot?"
"I just have to do a piece for the Prophet."
Harry stepped away long enough to grab her copy of The History of Wizarding Games: From the Time of Merlin to the Present Day - A Closer Look at Exploding Snap, Gobstones, Quidditch and More!. Ginny had been leaning against him and nearly fell out of her chair. "Maybe what you should do, instead of concentrating on the specific matches, is give a history of the game and write about the four teams competing for the Final Cup. You could talk to some of the fans,find out why they support certain teams and maybe interview a few players." His eyes sparkled. "I could probably go catch the boys and maybe they can introduce you to the players on the Seattle Serpents."
Ginny seated herself on the desk. "History. Teams. Players. Fans. Good ideas. Those boys - bad idea." She pushed the chair away with her foot, not caring that it fell over. She grabbed his shirt, pulling him towards her. "Now that I have a plan, I can enjoy myself and my husband for a while."
Harry leaned over her and kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Ginny moved her hands against him, sliding his zipper down and pushing his jeans down past his hips.
He broke the contact, stepping back to shove his jeans to the floor and kick them off. He watched as she pulled at her own zipper and struggled to push her jeans and knickers off together. When they caught around her ankles, he reached down to help her, freeing her right ankle. He tossed her jeans and knickers over his shoulder, knocking a lamp onto the floor.
"Oops," he said.
"Fix it later," Ginny said grabbing his shirt and hauling him back to the desk again. She pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "Its… been… too… long… since… we… could… do… this… without… Albus… interrupting." She punctuated each word with a kiss or a lick to his neck, shoulders and lips.
Harry grabbed her wand and pointed it at her stomach, muttering a quick charm. He slid her hips towards the end of the desk. He knew he should take longer, wanted to take longer, but she was right - it had been too long. He slid his fingers into her, making sure she was ready.
"Harry," she moaned, "hurry. Need you now."
He pressed his cock against her slick opening and thrust into her. Ginny moaned, arching against him, digging her fingers into his hair. He thrust harder, banging the desk into the wall, Ginny's pot of ink falling unnoticed to the floor. Harry slipped his hand between their bodies, rubbing his thumb against her clit.
Ginny wrapped her legs around his waist, her muscles clenching around his cock.
Giving a final thrust, Harry's head fell forward onto her shoulder. He stood at the edge of the desk until their breathing slowed and returned to normal. He raised his head and pressed his forehead against hers. "I love you, Mrs. Potter."
"And I you."
* * * * *
Ginny read her article and deemed it finished. She had managed to discover a unique fact about each of the teams that related to a British Quidditch team. Like the Harpies, the Vancouver Valkyries were only witches; the Niagara Nettles took after the Cannons and hadn't won the league since 1892; the Cincinnati Centaurs were the most successful team in history like Montrose; and Seattle Serpents were known for hard and violent play, as was Falmouth.
She had just attached it to the leg of a tawny owl that had landed on their balcony a few minutes before Harry returned to the hotel room.
"All done, love?"
"Yes. Once I took your advice and stopped focusing on the play and more on the history and the people who love it, it was better. Thank you for the help." She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her toes to kiss him. "I knew when I married you you'd have your uses."
"Then you'll love what I have planned for you this afternoon. Not that," he said, as she looked at the bed. "I heard some Muggles talking, and it turns out that the Wineries of Niagara-On-The-Lake are having their annual autumn wine festival. I figured we could check out the wineries, maybe make a few purchases, and have a picnic." He nodded towards the bed. "And then later, we can take advantage of the fact that your youngest son is being spoiled by his grandparents for one more night."
"That sounds perfect."
Harry grabbed a blanket from the dresser and waved his wand, shrinking it to the size of a deck of cards. He tucked it into his pocket. "Let's see if the front desk has our picnic lunch ready."
In addition to the picnic basket, Pierre had provided a listing of the local wineries. He had also marked his four favorites, so they decided to start with those.
At the first winery, Ginny felt like she should excuse herself and find someplace where she could transfigure her jeans and sweater into a formal evening gown. The second winery wasn't really a winery; it was more of a store that billed itself as an estate and sold local and international wines.
Ginny sighed. "Maybe following Pierre's recommendations wasn't such a good idea."
"Let's try one more, then we'll find a nice spot for our picnic."
Ginny's stomach grumbled, but she didn't want to spoil Harry's plans, so she nodded. Harry looked at the address and wrapped his arm around her, turning on the spot. Like Harry, she wasn't found of Apparition, but it did make for getting around quickly. And getting to hug him, while being taken side-along, did have its advantages.
When her feet touched solid ground, Ginny looked around. The building was a converted old barn, but here there were actually vineyards around. She walked over and saw each row labeled with the types of grapes. She smiled up at Harry.
"Our next tour will be starting in five minutes. Please gather at the Brae Burn Barn."
They decided to join the tour. Walking through the fields, Ginny whispered that Neville would love this. Harry nodded.
"Do you pick the grapes by hand?" a woman in a floppy orange hat wanted to know.
"Only the grapes used for our Rieslings. They tend to be more delicate than the other varieties." The tour guide led the way into a large building full of equipment. "After the grapes are harvested, the grapes go through fermenting. Red wines are made with the pulp and skins of the grapes and whites are made by extracting the juice-"
"I've hear that some white wines are made from red grapes," said the woman in the orange hat.
"They can be. We don't make any like that here, but some of the other wineries do."
"Do you consider them to be inferior?"
"If she asks one more question, I'm going to hex her," Ginny whispered to Harry.
"They aren't inferior, they just aren't quite as traditional," the tour guide proceeded to an area where wooden barrels were stored. "Here, the wine is fermenting-"
"How long-" the woman in the orange hat clutched at her throat. Her mouth was moving, but no sound was audible.
Ginny looked at Harry. "Did you do that?"
He shook his head and leaned down. "Over there, the couple by the barrel labeled Chardonnay. I saw them at one of the Quidditch matches. I think he plays for one of the Quodpot teams."
The tour guide seemed torn; she could finish her tour without the constant questions, or she could take the woman inside and get her help. "I'm sorry. I'm going to have to stop the tour here. Our next one will begin at the Brae Burn Barn in about twenty minutes. If you continue down this hallway and exit through the door at the end of the hall, you'll see the Winery Visitor and Tour Centre. There you'll find the Wine Tasting Bar and the Wine Boutique." She took the woman's arm and guided her away. "We have an infirmary through that room over there. We'll get you taken care of."
The small group followed the guide's instructions to the tasting. "Funny how she got struck with laryngitis like that, wasn't it?" one of the women asked.
"I'm sure she'll be fine in about an hour or so," said the man, whom Ginny now recognized as one of the Serpents. He noticed her watching him and winked at her. She glared at him, stepping closer to Harry.
Harry chuckled and put his arm around her. "Jealous that someone else hexed her before you could?"
"No. I wouldn't really have done it. And since she's a Muggle, he shouldn't have either."
"You're right. And if it wasn't a fairly harmless curse that would wear off soon, I'd do something about it. But drawing attention to it would be worse right now."
As the group stepped into the Visitor Centre, the man behind the tasting bar - Robert, according to his nametag - looked up, startled. "The tour is over?"
"There was a mishap. A woman was struck by laryngitis and was taken to the infirmary," said the man who caused the laryngitis.
"Oh. Oh. Well, if you'll step this way, Susan and I have a selection of wines for you to sample."
For the next hour, Ginny and Harry sampled wines and selected bottles to be sent back to England. They also selected bottles of Late Autumn Riesling and Meritage to take on their picnic. Once outside the visitor centre, Harry pulled Ginny into his arms and Apparated them away.
They landed in a small wooded area by a lake. "Where are we?" Ginny asked.
Harry pointed up a steep hill. "See the top of that building? That's our hotel. I found this lake and clearing when you were writing this morning. It reminded me of the lake at Hogwarts."
Harry pulled the picnic basket from his pocket and pointed his wand at it. "Engorgio." He opened it and spread the tablecloth the hotel kitchen had packed, while Ginny set out the plates, wine glasses, and varieties of food.
She held up a printed menu. "Chutney-glazed ham and brie on croissants. Curried chicken with mango and sliced almonds on oat bread. Seafood salad - smoked salmon and cold-water shrimp from Newfoundland waters. Cranberry scones. Gingerbread with custard sauce. Orange crumble squares."
Harry poured the wine and handed her a glass before accepting the plate she held out to him. An hour later all the food was gone.
Ginny laughed. "I didn't think we could eat it all. At least not without Ron's help."
They gathered up the empty containers and returned them to the picnic basket. Harry filled their glasses with the remaining wine, pulling Ginny against him so her back was against his chest. Ginny reached out and grabbed a handful of leaves from the ground, tossing them and letting them scatter in the breeze.
"I think the trees turn and the leaves fall sooner here than they do back home." She turned her face up to him and smiled. "So we really get two autumns this year."
"Mmmm," Harry murmured against her hair. "It's my favorite time of year."
"I like it, but winter is my favorite."
"Autumn reminds me of you."
"Now you're being silly."
Harry stood up and strode to a tree. He studied it for a few seconds before selecting two leaves. He sat back down and pulled a handful of her hair in front of her eyes, holding the leaves against it. "Weasley red."
"Fair enough." Ginny used her fingernail and drew circles along his thigh. "This reminded you of the Black Lake? Any particular reason why?"
Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was smiling. "Nope. Just that I have very found memories of that lake. All lakes make me think about that one."
Ginny turned to face him and straddled his thighs. "Any fond memories you'd care to share with me?"
"Shouldn't really need to share them with you. You were there for them." Harry smirked at her.
"Maybe I asked the question wrong. And your most fond memory would be?"
He shifted so that she was on her back and he was above her. "I think it started very much like this." His hands grasped the edge of her jumper and he worked it up her body and over her head.
"And then I think…," Ginny continued, grabbing his jumper and pulling it over his head.
"We don't have my Invisibility Cloak, but I'm sure there aren't many people who venture down here at this time of year."
In no time, they shed the rest of their clothes and Harry moved back over her. His mouth latched onto one nipple, his tongue causing it to pebble. Ginny arched underneath him, rubbing against his thigh.
Harry shifted, moving his mouth lower, and flicked his tongue against her clit. She pressed her feet against the ground and raised herself closer to his mouth.
He slid one finger inside her focusing his attention on the sensitive nub. He continued his ministrations as her thighs tightened around his head. Her body shuddered as she came.
He pushed her thighs apart, kissing a path up her stomach. He paused at her belly button and at the breast he had missed previously, her pulse beating rapidly in her neck.
Finally he was inside her. Ginny curled her legs around his waist, her nails digging into his back.
He thrust slowly at first, increasing his pace until it matched the rhythm of her breathing. Harry moved onto his knees, lifting her against him. He groaned, his orgasm filling her.
"Just a little. Almost there," Ginny mumbled, her mouth against his shoulder. Harry continued for several more thrusts before he felt her body tremble against his. He relaxed against her, shifting their position so that they were no longer joined together. Harry pulled Ginny down to his chest.
"We really should go back to the hotel now," Harry murmured.
"We should."
"Yeah, we should," he said, his eyes drifting closed.
Ginny woke, snuggling closer to Harry, who was still fast asleep . She sleepily wondered what had awakened her. A dog barked.
"Harry." She shook his shoulder. "Harry!"
"Huh? What?" He shoved his glasses on his face and looked over at the dog sitting at the edge of the blanket.
The dog wagged his tail and barked again.
"Buster! Where are you? Here, Buster." A man's voice called, getting closer.
Ginny looked at the dog. "You're Buster, aren't you?"
The dog looked at her and tipped his head to the side. The dog was black and huge, with friendly eyes. He looked happy to have found them here.
"Grab the two corners of the blanket on your side," Harry told her, grabbing the two on his with his wand gripped tight in one hand. "I hope this works, since Buster's owner is getting close." He Apparated.
They tumbled onto the bed in their hotel room complete with the blanket, picnic basket and empty wine bottles. Ginny laughed.
"That was close."
"Yeah. Good thing Buster woke you before his owner wandered past."
She wasn't sure if she should mention it. "Harry, did the dog remind you of - ?"
"Padfoot?"
"Yeah."
Harry nodded.
* * * * *
Eight weeks later
Harry Apparated into the garden behind their home in Godric's Hollow. He noted with surprise that it had snowed during the day; while not unheard of for the end of November, it wasn't common.
Since Ginny loved snow so much, he was surprised she wasn't outside with the boys, teaching them how to make snowmen. Not that they could help yet, but it would give Ginny an excuse to play.
His next surprise was the noise level of the house - or rather lack of noise. "Gin?" he called. "You home?"
"In here." Ginny's voice floated from the kitchen. And she didn't sound happy. He only hoped that James or Albus had done something. Because if it wasn't one of them, odds were she was pissed at him.
Harry hung his coat and pulled off his boots, leaving them by the door in the mudroom and stepping into the kitchen. "The boys are all right?"
"Yes. They're at the Burrow," Ginny said, never turning her attention from the small cauldron on the hob.
Harry stepped behind her and started to slip his hands around her waist, but she stepped closer to the stove.
Harry's mind started to race. Her birthday is August. Our anniversary is February. The next time anyone is coming for dinner is next Saturday. He took a deep breath. Better just admit he did something, ask what it was, and beg forgiveness.
"Erm…Gin? Did I do something to annoy you?"
"No. Harry you didn't do something. You forgot to do something." She grabbed a ladle and filled a small crystal phial with the potion she was brewing. Using a needle, she pricked her finger and squeezed a single drop of blood into the potion. As they watched, the liquid in the phial turned bright pink.
"What did I forget?"
He took a quick step back when she reached for her wand. Relief washed over him as she waved it over the cauldron, emptying it.
"You forgot a charm. A contraception charm. That day by the lake after the picnic."
Harry nodded to the now empty cauldron. "And that was a pregnancy test?"
"I brewed it five times so far. And it keeps turning pink. It's supposed to stay clear. If it doesn't stay clear, the least it could do is turn blue!"
"What do the different colours mean?"
Ginny looked at him like he was daft. "It turns blue if the baby is a boy. If it turns pink, that means it's a girl." Ginny was near tears. "I don't know what to do with a girl!"
This time, she didn't pull away when Harry pulled her to him. "You remember with James? You were upset because we weren't ready for a baby? I think you said, 'I don't know what to do with a baby!' and so far James and Albus are fine. And our daughter will be, too."
Ginny buried her face in his chest and sniffled. "It's a girl."
"Yeah."
"We said we were going to wait until Albus was three or four."
"We did."
"But he isn't even two yet."
"Nope."
Ginny sighed. "A girl."
Harry held her tighter. "A girl."
Gift for: pettybureaucrat
Author: katwoman_68
Pairing: Harry/Ginny
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,153
Summary: Will Ginny regret bringing Harry along on an assignment, or is he just the distraction she needs?
Author's Notes: pettybureaucrat, you asked for: sexy, romance, humor with al fresco sex, wall/desk/shower!sex, pranks, (almost) getting caught with crisp autumn air, leaves, maybe a trip to New England or Canada to view the foliage. I didn't get it all in, but I think I included a lot. I hope you like this.
"Wake up, Jack. There's a boat."
Click. Ginny glared at the television set. Then at her oblivious husband.
"They FUCK YOU at the drive-thru, okay? They FUCK YOU at the drive-thru! They know you're gonna be miles away before you find out you got fucked! They know you're not gonna turn around and go back, they don't care. So who gets fucked? Ol' Leo Getz! Okay, sure! I don't give a fuck! I'm not eating this tuna, okay?"
Ginny sighed as she crumpled yet another piece of parchment, tossing it into the overflowing wastebasket. She had jumped at the chance to cover the Quidditch Exhibition in North America. Then she was told she'd also have to cover the Quodpot Finals. Really, do the readers of the Daily Prophet care about Quodpot? She silently cursed Abraham Peasegood for creating the stupid game, Cooper Ivan Harper for assigning her to cover the Quodpot Finals, and finally Harry for distracting her. And not in a good way.
"I see dead people."
"In your dreams? While you're awake? Dead people like, in graves? In coffins?"
"Walking around like regular people. They don't see each other. They only see what they want to see. They don't know they're dead."
Click.
"WE WERE ON A BREAK!"
She glanced over her shoulder at her husband, stretched out across the bed. She picked up her wand, directed it at the noisy box in the corner, and turned it off.
"I was watching that."
"No, you weren't. You were clicking through all the channels and not watching anything," Ginny snapped at him. She inhaled a deep cleansing breath.
She pulled another sheet of parchment to her and began scratching her quill across it.
In the early 1700s, Abraham Peasegood traveled from England to the New World and brought with him a Quaffle. While packed, it is assumed
"Dad said not to let anyone see your wand!"
The distraction came from the hallway this time. Ginny knew it was the brothers from Seattle; she and Harry had had the misfortune of sitting next to the family during the match between the Holyhead Harpies and the Montrose Magpies. The boys, who informed everyone around them that their father owned the Serpents, criticized every move the Harpies made for no reason other than they were witches. Ginny's smile had been smug when the Harpies won 400 to 260.
Merlin, who thought it would be a good idea to put a bunch of wizards and witches up in a Muggle hotel? She knew that Obliviators had been to the hotel no less than six times. So far.
"You could go talk to those boys and explain to them why they shouldn't be running around the hallways."
"I'm on holiday. Kingsley did ask the Canadian Ministry if they would like our support with security for either the finals or exhibition. They declined. Besides, it's up to their parents to explain why they need to be careful around Muggles, as well as teach them common courtesy. I'll be more than happy to have those conversations with James and Albus when they're older, but the Seattle brats are not my responsibility." Harry tossed the television remote on the nightstand and crossed to her desk. He picked up a crumpled ball of parchment and tried to open it.
Ginny tried to grab it out of his hand. "Please don't read it. It's horrible."
"You can usually finish your columns so much easier than this, love."
"Usually, since I usually only have to write about Quidditch. I love Quidditch; my readers love Quidditch. None of us cares about Quodpot. I've finished the article on the Quidditch Exhibition." Ginny waved her hand in the general direction where two neatly tied rolls of parchment were ready: one to be owled to the Prophet and the other to be published by the Ontario Oracle.
Harry leaned over her shoulder and stretched his arm to pick up a program for the event, his arm brushing across her breasts. "You wrote about the Quidditch Exhibitions for both papers, right?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Did you submit the same article for both?"
Oh, Merlin. He was disturbing her again, but this time she didn't mind. Ginny closed her eyes and leaned against his arm, inhaling the clean scent of his soap. As much as she loved her boys, Albus was a cranky baby and every time Ginny or Harry even thought about sex, he cried. Screamed. At the top of his lungs. And here they were, halfway around the world, and she couldn't even write a simple piece so she could spend the rest of the evening shagging her husband.
"Gin?" Harry was smirking down at her. She looked at the bed and he laughed. "You said you had to finish the article before I could enjoy you, and you made me promise to hold you to that."
What had he asked? "No. I wrote about the match for both, but for the Oracle I also gave a little history of the game, as well as information on the Holyhead Harpies, the Montrose Magpies, the Ballycastle Bats, and Pride of Portree since those are the four teams that participated here. There's a new Quidditch league starting in North America, and I wanted the future fans to know why it's the top Wizarding game in Europe."
Harry was looking through the program. "Do you need to write anything for the Oracle about Quodpot?"
"I just have to do a piece for the Prophet."
Harry stepped away long enough to grab her copy of The History of Wizarding Games: From the Time of Merlin to the Present Day - A Closer Look at Exploding Snap, Gobstones, Quidditch and More!. Ginny had been leaning against him and nearly fell out of her chair. "Maybe what you should do, instead of concentrating on the specific matches, is give a history of the game and write about the four teams competing for the Final Cup. You could talk to some of the fans,find out why they support certain teams and maybe interview a few players." His eyes sparkled. "I could probably go catch the boys and maybe they can introduce you to the players on the Seattle Serpents."
Ginny seated herself on the desk. "History. Teams. Players. Fans. Good ideas. Those boys - bad idea." She pushed the chair away with her foot, not caring that it fell over. She grabbed his shirt, pulling him towards her. "Now that I have a plan, I can enjoy myself and my husband for a while."
Harry leaned over her and kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Ginny moved her hands against him, sliding his zipper down and pushing his jeans down past his hips.
He broke the contact, stepping back to shove his jeans to the floor and kick them off. He watched as she pulled at her own zipper and struggled to push her jeans and knickers off together. When they caught around her ankles, he reached down to help her, freeing her right ankle. He tossed her jeans and knickers over his shoulder, knocking a lamp onto the floor.
"Oops," he said.
"Fix it later," Ginny said grabbing his shirt and hauling him back to the desk again. She pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "Its… been… too… long… since… we… could… do… this… without… Albus… interrupting." She punctuated each word with a kiss or a lick to his neck, shoulders and lips.
Harry grabbed her wand and pointed it at her stomach, muttering a quick charm. He slid her hips towards the end of the desk. He knew he should take longer, wanted to take longer, but she was right - it had been too long. He slid his fingers into her, making sure she was ready.
"Harry," she moaned, "hurry. Need you now."
He pressed his cock against her slick opening and thrust into her. Ginny moaned, arching against him, digging her fingers into his hair. He thrust harder, banging the desk into the wall, Ginny's pot of ink falling unnoticed to the floor. Harry slipped his hand between their bodies, rubbing his thumb against her clit.
Ginny wrapped her legs around his waist, her muscles clenching around his cock.
Giving a final thrust, Harry's head fell forward onto her shoulder. He stood at the edge of the desk until their breathing slowed and returned to normal. He raised his head and pressed his forehead against hers. "I love you, Mrs. Potter."
"And I you."
* * * * *
Ginny read her article and deemed it finished. She had managed to discover a unique fact about each of the teams that related to a British Quidditch team. Like the Harpies, the Vancouver Valkyries were only witches; the Niagara Nettles took after the Cannons and hadn't won the league since 1892; the Cincinnati Centaurs were the most successful team in history like Montrose; and Seattle Serpents were known for hard and violent play, as was Falmouth.
She had just attached it to the leg of a tawny owl that had landed on their balcony a few minutes before Harry returned to the hotel room.
"All done, love?"
"Yes. Once I took your advice and stopped focusing on the play and more on the history and the people who love it, it was better. Thank you for the help." She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her toes to kiss him. "I knew when I married you you'd have your uses."
"Then you'll love what I have planned for you this afternoon. Not that," he said, as she looked at the bed. "I heard some Muggles talking, and it turns out that the Wineries of Niagara-On-The-Lake are having their annual autumn wine festival. I figured we could check out the wineries, maybe make a few purchases, and have a picnic." He nodded towards the bed. "And then later, we can take advantage of the fact that your youngest son is being spoiled by his grandparents for one more night."
"That sounds perfect."
Harry grabbed a blanket from the dresser and waved his wand, shrinking it to the size of a deck of cards. He tucked it into his pocket. "Let's see if the front desk has our picnic lunch ready."
In addition to the picnic basket, Pierre had provided a listing of the local wineries. He had also marked his four favorites, so they decided to start with those.
At the first winery, Ginny felt like she should excuse herself and find someplace where she could transfigure her jeans and sweater into a formal evening gown. The second winery wasn't really a winery; it was more of a store that billed itself as an estate and sold local and international wines.
Ginny sighed. "Maybe following Pierre's recommendations wasn't such a good idea."
"Let's try one more, then we'll find a nice spot for our picnic."
Ginny's stomach grumbled, but she didn't want to spoil Harry's plans, so she nodded. Harry looked at the address and wrapped his arm around her, turning on the spot. Like Harry, she wasn't found of Apparition, but it did make for getting around quickly. And getting to hug him, while being taken side-along, did have its advantages.
When her feet touched solid ground, Ginny looked around. The building was a converted old barn, but here there were actually vineyards around. She walked over and saw each row labeled with the types of grapes. She smiled up at Harry.
"Our next tour will be starting in five minutes. Please gather at the Brae Burn Barn."
They decided to join the tour. Walking through the fields, Ginny whispered that Neville would love this. Harry nodded.
"Do you pick the grapes by hand?" a woman in a floppy orange hat wanted to know.
"Only the grapes used for our Rieslings. They tend to be more delicate than the other varieties." The tour guide led the way into a large building full of equipment. "After the grapes are harvested, the grapes go through fermenting. Red wines are made with the pulp and skins of the grapes and whites are made by extracting the juice-"
"I've hear that some white wines are made from red grapes," said the woman in the orange hat.
"They can be. We don't make any like that here, but some of the other wineries do."
"Do you consider them to be inferior?"
"If she asks one more question, I'm going to hex her," Ginny whispered to Harry.
"They aren't inferior, they just aren't quite as traditional," the tour guide proceeded to an area where wooden barrels were stored. "Here, the wine is fermenting-"
"How long-" the woman in the orange hat clutched at her throat. Her mouth was moving, but no sound was audible.
Ginny looked at Harry. "Did you do that?"
He shook his head and leaned down. "Over there, the couple by the barrel labeled Chardonnay. I saw them at one of the Quidditch matches. I think he plays for one of the Quodpot teams."
The tour guide seemed torn; she could finish her tour without the constant questions, or she could take the woman inside and get her help. "I'm sorry. I'm going to have to stop the tour here. Our next one will begin at the Brae Burn Barn in about twenty minutes. If you continue down this hallway and exit through the door at the end of the hall, you'll see the Winery Visitor and Tour Centre. There you'll find the Wine Tasting Bar and the Wine Boutique." She took the woman's arm and guided her away. "We have an infirmary through that room over there. We'll get you taken care of."
The small group followed the guide's instructions to the tasting. "Funny how she got struck with laryngitis like that, wasn't it?" one of the women asked.
"I'm sure she'll be fine in about an hour or so," said the man, whom Ginny now recognized as one of the Serpents. He noticed her watching him and winked at her. She glared at him, stepping closer to Harry.
Harry chuckled and put his arm around her. "Jealous that someone else hexed her before you could?"
"No. I wouldn't really have done it. And since she's a Muggle, he shouldn't have either."
"You're right. And if it wasn't a fairly harmless curse that would wear off soon, I'd do something about it. But drawing attention to it would be worse right now."
As the group stepped into the Visitor Centre, the man behind the tasting bar - Robert, according to his nametag - looked up, startled. "The tour is over?"
"There was a mishap. A woman was struck by laryngitis and was taken to the infirmary," said the man who caused the laryngitis.
"Oh. Oh. Well, if you'll step this way, Susan and I have a selection of wines for you to sample."
For the next hour, Ginny and Harry sampled wines and selected bottles to be sent back to England. They also selected bottles of Late Autumn Riesling and Meritage to take on their picnic. Once outside the visitor centre, Harry pulled Ginny into his arms and Apparated them away.
They landed in a small wooded area by a lake. "Where are we?" Ginny asked.
Harry pointed up a steep hill. "See the top of that building? That's our hotel. I found this lake and clearing when you were writing this morning. It reminded me of the lake at Hogwarts."
Harry pulled the picnic basket from his pocket and pointed his wand at it. "Engorgio." He opened it and spread the tablecloth the hotel kitchen had packed, while Ginny set out the plates, wine glasses, and varieties of food.
She held up a printed menu. "Chutney-glazed ham and brie on croissants. Curried chicken with mango and sliced almonds on oat bread. Seafood salad - smoked salmon and cold-water shrimp from Newfoundland waters. Cranberry scones. Gingerbread with custard sauce. Orange crumble squares."
Harry poured the wine and handed her a glass before accepting the plate she held out to him. An hour later all the food was gone.
Ginny laughed. "I didn't think we could eat it all. At least not without Ron's help."
They gathered up the empty containers and returned them to the picnic basket. Harry filled their glasses with the remaining wine, pulling Ginny against him so her back was against his chest. Ginny reached out and grabbed a handful of leaves from the ground, tossing them and letting them scatter in the breeze.
"I think the trees turn and the leaves fall sooner here than they do back home." She turned her face up to him and smiled. "So we really get two autumns this year."
"Mmmm," Harry murmured against her hair. "It's my favorite time of year."
"I like it, but winter is my favorite."
"Autumn reminds me of you."
"Now you're being silly."
Harry stood up and strode to a tree. He studied it for a few seconds before selecting two leaves. He sat back down and pulled a handful of her hair in front of her eyes, holding the leaves against it. "Weasley red."
"Fair enough." Ginny used her fingernail and drew circles along his thigh. "This reminded you of the Black Lake? Any particular reason why?"
Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was smiling. "Nope. Just that I have very found memories of that lake. All lakes make me think about that one."
Ginny turned to face him and straddled his thighs. "Any fond memories you'd care to share with me?"
"Shouldn't really need to share them with you. You were there for them." Harry smirked at her.
"Maybe I asked the question wrong. And your most fond memory would be?"
He shifted so that she was on her back and he was above her. "I think it started very much like this." His hands grasped the edge of her jumper and he worked it up her body and over her head.
"And then I think…," Ginny continued, grabbing his jumper and pulling it over his head.
"We don't have my Invisibility Cloak, but I'm sure there aren't many people who venture down here at this time of year."
In no time, they shed the rest of their clothes and Harry moved back over her. His mouth latched onto one nipple, his tongue causing it to pebble. Ginny arched underneath him, rubbing against his thigh.
Harry shifted, moving his mouth lower, and flicked his tongue against her clit. She pressed her feet against the ground and raised herself closer to his mouth.
He slid one finger inside her focusing his attention on the sensitive nub. He continued his ministrations as her thighs tightened around his head. Her body shuddered as she came.
He pushed her thighs apart, kissing a path up her stomach. He paused at her belly button and at the breast he had missed previously, her pulse beating rapidly in her neck.
Finally he was inside her. Ginny curled her legs around his waist, her nails digging into his back.
He thrust slowly at first, increasing his pace until it matched the rhythm of her breathing. Harry moved onto his knees, lifting her against him. He groaned, his orgasm filling her.
"Just a little. Almost there," Ginny mumbled, her mouth against his shoulder. Harry continued for several more thrusts before he felt her body tremble against his. He relaxed against her, shifting their position so that they were no longer joined together. Harry pulled Ginny down to his chest.
"We really should go back to the hotel now," Harry murmured.
"We should."
"Yeah, we should," he said, his eyes drifting closed.
Ginny woke, snuggling closer to Harry, who was still fast asleep . She sleepily wondered what had awakened her. A dog barked.
"Harry." She shook his shoulder. "Harry!"
"Huh? What?" He shoved his glasses on his face and looked over at the dog sitting at the edge of the blanket.
The dog wagged his tail and barked again.
"Buster! Where are you? Here, Buster." A man's voice called, getting closer.
Ginny looked at the dog. "You're Buster, aren't you?"
The dog looked at her and tipped his head to the side. The dog was black and huge, with friendly eyes. He looked happy to have found them here.
"Grab the two corners of the blanket on your side," Harry told her, grabbing the two on his with his wand gripped tight in one hand. "I hope this works, since Buster's owner is getting close." He Apparated.
They tumbled onto the bed in their hotel room complete with the blanket, picnic basket and empty wine bottles. Ginny laughed.
"That was close."
"Yeah. Good thing Buster woke you before his owner wandered past."
She wasn't sure if she should mention it. "Harry, did the dog remind you of - ?"
"Padfoot?"
"Yeah."
Harry nodded.
* * * * *
Eight weeks later
Harry Apparated into the garden behind their home in Godric's Hollow. He noted with surprise that it had snowed during the day; while not unheard of for the end of November, it wasn't common.
Since Ginny loved snow so much, he was surprised she wasn't outside with the boys, teaching them how to make snowmen. Not that they could help yet, but it would give Ginny an excuse to play.
His next surprise was the noise level of the house - or rather lack of noise. "Gin?" he called. "You home?"
"In here." Ginny's voice floated from the kitchen. And she didn't sound happy. He only hoped that James or Albus had done something. Because if it wasn't one of them, odds were she was pissed at him.
Harry hung his coat and pulled off his boots, leaving them by the door in the mudroom and stepping into the kitchen. "The boys are all right?"
"Yes. They're at the Burrow," Ginny said, never turning her attention from the small cauldron on the hob.
Harry stepped behind her and started to slip his hands around her waist, but she stepped closer to the stove.
Harry's mind started to race. Her birthday is August. Our anniversary is February. The next time anyone is coming for dinner is next Saturday. He took a deep breath. Better just admit he did something, ask what it was, and beg forgiveness.
"Erm…Gin? Did I do something to annoy you?"
"No. Harry you didn't do something. You forgot to do something." She grabbed a ladle and filled a small crystal phial with the potion she was brewing. Using a needle, she pricked her finger and squeezed a single drop of blood into the potion. As they watched, the liquid in the phial turned bright pink.
"What did I forget?"
He took a quick step back when she reached for her wand. Relief washed over him as she waved it over the cauldron, emptying it.
"You forgot a charm. A contraception charm. That day by the lake after the picnic."
Harry nodded to the now empty cauldron. "And that was a pregnancy test?"
"I brewed it five times so far. And it keeps turning pink. It's supposed to stay clear. If it doesn't stay clear, the least it could do is turn blue!"
"What do the different colours mean?"
Ginny looked at him like he was daft. "It turns blue if the baby is a boy. If it turns pink, that means it's a girl." Ginny was near tears. "I don't know what to do with a girl!"
This time, she didn't pull away when Harry pulled her to him. "You remember with James? You were upset because we weren't ready for a baby? I think you said, 'I don't know what to do with a baby!' and so far James and Albus are fine. And our daughter will be, too."
Ginny buried her face in his chest and sniffled. "It's a girl."
"Yeah."
"We said we were going to wait until Albus was three or four."
"We did."
"But he isn't even two yet."
"Nope."
Ginny sighed. "A girl."
Harry held her tighter. "A girl."